


Snow and Angel Dust

by Animaegan (orphan_account), Bai_Marionette



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angels, Angst, Demons, Dubious Consent, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Animaegan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bai_Marionette/pseuds/Bai_Marionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred did not know how or when he was taken from Heaven, or when he was going to get back. All that mattered now was staying alive and figuring out the devilish Russian scientist, Ivan Bragniski's, intentions on being overly friendly. Oh, if only he knew… RusAme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remember to Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: I do not own any of the Hetalia characters. In addition, some (most) of the scenes of this chapter were written by my wunderbar beta and Co-Writer, Bai-Marionette.

_The rays and warmth of the bright sun were eliciting the joyful laughs of two small children. One was running about with wildflowers, with a small and unfinished crown of flowers in his little hands. The other had a small crown of various and colorful ones on his wavy locks._

_One made a move to take a dive down a hill, his little white wings barely having the strength to keep him from falling down and hurting himself. However, the other, the older one, was stronger. He took a hold of the other's hands and caught him. That bright smile, it could light up any darkness; banish any fear, and banish fear it did, as the smaller boy was put back safely to the ground._

_The fields, surrounding the little boys, were of the greenest grass. The boys were now laughing and giggling, as they play-fought each other. Little bursts of air flew out from smaller wings, but pink faces told of a bigger joy and happiness._

_The Garden was so peaceful…_

_The children were so immersed in playing, that they missed it when the stronger one's strength acted against the other boy, and knocked him back in the air. The little boy blinked, and then stammered his wings. Then, back to playing, as if nothing happened._

_The sight of one boy nearly being hurt did not go missed by a certain parent figure. The soft, velvet grass tickled the larger Angel's barefoot toes, as he furrowed his bushy brows at the sight of young children running precariously around the trees and not paying any mind to the tricky ivy and the nearby creek._

_Afraid his little boys might stumble, the bushy-browed Angel yelled frantically to catch his sons' attention. "Alfred! Mathew! Be more careful, you two!" Neither boy seemed to pay him any mind, more or less, nor feeling a slight indignant at that, the larger Angel made a move to leave the safety of the shadows in the Garden._

_Before he could make it far, however, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around him. The smell of delicately aged wine and cheese was coming from the Angel behind him._

" _Get off me, you wanker!" The bushy-browed Angel shouted. His voice rang out in the Garden, and the boys stopped playing to look around. Both stopped looking once they spotted the familiar sight of their two larger Angel Guardians._

" _Mon amor, you are so vicious," the taller Angel smirked, as he opened his arms and held himself a careful foot in the air. He took small strides around the bushy-browed Angel, further infuriating the shorter. "What you need is a nice massage."_

" _Touch me," the shorter Angel growled, "And you will be short of a few things. Mark my words, frog, now get out of my way!"_

_The sound of laughter, and arguing, made the children laugh. It was a delicate and adorable blend of wind chimes and Angelic innocence. The older Angels looked over, and the identical looks of parental pride and happiness shone in each pair of eyes._

_There was pride in emerald green. There was love in ocean blue. There was happiness in hydrangea purple. There was joy in sky blue._

_However, there was also dark greed in another shade of purple. The shade no one saw from the other edge of the Garden._

* * *

The sudden switch of bright light versus the previous pitch-black awoke the only body in the room, and caused the young man's weary eyes to squint. His head throbbed at the blinding glow of the fluorescent lights upon the ceiling. Alfred attempted to shield his eyes, but he could not move his hands.

The blonde haired Angel looked down, and then saw his wrists and ankles bound to a stainless steel chair with leather restraints; both covered and stained a dark red color. He shifted his blue eyes to his attire and his blood ran cold. Gone were his pajamas that he was wearing the night before and in their place was a cotton examination gown.

It was completely drenched in the same red substance as the chair and restraints.

A coppery, metallic scent emanated from his position. "Oh my God, it's blood!" He screeched, as he started panicking at the thought of blood all over his body.

_Whose blood is it?_  He inwardly wondered frantically, although he dreaded the answer, and regretted his later actions, as he looked closer at his bound limbs. His heart started to pound, as he saw infinite scars and bruises littering his marred skin. He could  _feel_  the years of abuse on his body and the dull aches of the bruises on his battered body.

_What the Hell?_  His breathing was near borderline hyperventilation, as his chest rose and fell in quick bursts.  _They look old, but I was at home in bed last night! Where am I? How the fuck did I get here?_

**Do You Want To Know?**

His head snapped up from his scars at the sound of the voice. It had sounded close, but when he looked around, he was shocked to find no one. There was no one else in the empty room. Only red-decorated mirrors and his own horrified face looking back at him.

Just as he was about to question aloud and ask how had just spoken to him, his head started to throb like a heavy bass drum. The voice returned:

**Do Not Fear Me. Do Not Worry. I Am Harmless.**

Then, it added on, in such a dark and even tone of voice:

**Do Not Remember.**

Alfred stopped trying to remember what happened, and just as he did, the throbbing ceased and his head felt light and empty. The feeling confused and scared him. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to go home.  _Home…_

Where was home?

_Where am I?_  He thought, as he made to look around. One glance at the walls of the room that resembled a hospital, or more accurately a lab, and he glanced at the wall in front of him. It was a plain white wall with a giant steel door like the ones in the movies. However, the adjacent walls and the floor were painted red with fresh blood. It looked as if buckets and buckets of the crimson liquid were splattered all over the wall.

Before he could think to question it, his ears picked up the noises of footsteps and hushed voices drew the blonde Angel out of his musings and he tried to break free of the restraints. He had to get away! His instincts were telling him to run.  _He had to run!_

His efforts proved to be fruitless, as the giant steel doors slammed open, and a short woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties in a lab coat strode in with a clipboard. Dulled sky blue eyes did a double take, as he noticed red splatters all over her face and coat, making the woman look even creepier.

Her grey eyes were full of hardened venom, her pale face similar to that of cream. However, her presence spoke volumes of her intentions to the Angel strapped down. She was bad. She was  _very_  bad. She was going to hurt him.  _He needed to get free and run away from her!_

Nevertheless, it was upon her cold gaze meeting his; that Alfred shrank into his seat like a child being scolded. He sunk down as much as he could. The woman glared her narrowed and cold eyes down at the terrified captive and let a sadistic smirk slip onto her features. The prisoner saw her nametag that read "Dr. Arlovskaya" when she leaned toward Alfred and snapped on her latex gloves.

"Let us see what new information I can gather from you, this time, Angel," she said. Alfred felt his eyes widen, as the doctor walked to a metal table – all of the stainless steel knives and needles lying under a small pool of red water – and retrieved a sharp and thin knife.

"I hope your old anesthesia is still in you," she said, as she turned around and began walking back. Alfred could not take his eyes off the knife, his toes curling and head shaking and building up speed. His eyes were already burning with tears that he refused to let fall, and his mouth was open in horror.

His voice caught in his throat, as the doctor smirked and said coldly, "Because I don't feel like giving you anymore."

Her shadow was cast over him, and the young Angel was barely being kept in the bolted chair with all of his thrashing. The doctor smiled so cruelly, "Let's explore your vocals today, Angel."

The voice returned, softly, but full of command:

**Close Your Eyes. I Will Protect You.**

Alfred whimpered, and closed his eyes in what he hoped was just in time for the voice to fulfill its promise. He waited.

**The voice did not do a damned thing.**


	2. Blood and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hetalia characters. I am only borrowing them for my sick and twisted amusement.
> 
> A/N: Uh where to begin… Oh yeah! The following chapter contains graphic violence and a bit of torture. If any of these things make you uneasy or you're not comfortable reading such things, I suggest you skip this chapter.
> 
> Bai-Marionette was here. That is why this seems a bit twisted…We're serious. It's rated M, she got a little carried away…A little is an understatement. Be warned. You have the right to freak out.
> 
> #Warning Over.

_Arthur stood at the edge of the wide expanse of meadow, the bright sun having travelled all across the sky to leave the divine world an eye-catching shade of blue and black. The stars shone brilliantly, and the clouds were a delicate pluck of silver._

_But he no longer cared for the meadow's beauty. What he did care for…was gone. His little baby boy, he was gone._

_Gone_ _**.** _

_And for what? Because Arthur had been trying to keep him to his bosom forever. The young Angel had grown since his toddler years, his centuries of running to Arthur's and Francis' side when something called out in the night. He had outgrown chasing after small fireflies and crickets, and then crawling in between his parental figures at late._

_He was nearly grown, but Arthur, he hadn't seen it. He had seen the boy change physically, but still tried to remain with the hope that his little boy was still there in the sense of his mind. But no, even that had grown, the mind had grown older._

_His little boy was no longer little, nor a boy. He was a young man, who wanted his own meadow and his own family. He wanted to be his own. But Arthur hadn't let him. He wanted to keep his little boy forever, wanted him to be as passive about staying as his brother, he didn't want his little boy to leave him._

_He had leashed the young Angel to his side, tried to tie him down and restrain him. They had argued; day after day, night after night after night—_

_Then one day, when his grown "little boy" had finally grown tired of the figurative cage of rules Arthur had tried to put him in. One day, the "little boy" had snapped and finally let loose everything his nearly grown body could deliver. Arthur had fought him back, his powers more controlled since he was older._

_But his "little boy" was strong, stronger than Arthur and Francis and Mathew, and he had struck down on the land he had once called and thought to be his "only home". After that strike, while Arthur tried to gather himself in the debris, the young Angel had turned on his heel and run away. It would seem he was never to be seen again, even after Francis and Mathew had chased after him. He was not found or caught._

_Arthur never got a chance to apologize, or to see anything but the look of pure rage on his "little boy's" face. His "little boy" was now really gone. Not just in the sense that he had grown up and no longer relied on him, but had himself torn from Arthur's side. It had hurt painfully, the wound so raw, and Arthur was inconsolable for seemingly weeks on end._

_A section of the meadow was still recovering from their onslaught. It pained Arthur everyday to see it. Some of his wounds never fully went away, lingering scars from his "little boy". Seeing Mathew, his "little boy's" near identical lookalike hurt. It hurt so much, once in his moments; he had held Mathew like a babe and promised to never cage him again._

_When Francis had tried to take a frightened Mathew away, Arthur had nearly snarled and attacked him. Mathew had had to act as the "little boy" Arthur had lost for a long time…When the lapse of insanity had ended, Arthur went back into being nothing more than a shadow of his former self._

_That's when he took to waiting at the meadow's edge. Francis would try to assure him that their son would come back, in his attempts to get Arthur to leave that dangerous side of the meadow…but he never did. He would say the same thing: "I have to be here, when he comes back. He'll want to see me waiting for him to come home. He won't come home otherwise; he can't stand to think I've forgotten him."_

_So Arthur waited at the meadow's edge, everyday, from dawn to dusk. But, the "little boy" never came back…and every day, Arthur felt the hope of ever seeing his "little boy" die more. With each sunrise and after every sunset, Arthur grew more distraught._

_So distraught, that he failed to see the looming dark presences steadily creeping behind his form._

Alfred should have known, as his eyes sprang back open at their own accord. He had felt someone else's pain for a moment. He had felt their pain and anguish, and then their fear and desperation. Just as fast as he had felt it, their connection had been severed by something else and he had heard that same voice repeat what it had said earlier:

**Do Not Worry. I Will Save You.**

But how could the voice even save him? It was just a voice; it was trying to reassure him that it could against this sadistic woman with a knife. Then again, had Alfred been at full strength, instead of being at this poor state of health that he was currently in, he could have easily broken free of the chair, beaten the woman and then ran until he found somewhere safe to transpire to home…

Home…wait, was he even welcome there? Where was that? When had he come here, again? Had he been captured? If he had been captured, how did his attackers get him? What did they want him for, besides the experimentation?

Well, he wasn't going to find out if he was dead, was he?

Alfred began his struggles anew, as Dr. Arlovskaya came closer towards him, smirking sadistically. She made sure to meet his eyes with her own, as she used a white cloth retrieved from her jacket to wipe the watery blood from the blade.

Dr. Arlovskaya did not raise the long knife high above her head. Instead she turned it over in her hand, and smiled as it caught her reflection. She titled her head, as Alfred's struggles were ignored. The blade shone in the light, and then she suddenly struck. She had used the time between Alfred's movements to successfully time when his vein was most prominent in his efforts, the blood pumping the strongest, his heart at its fastest and his eyes full of fear.

And she had succeeded: She swung her arm down, and imbedded the serrated knife into the angel's upper thigh. A two-sided scream was emitted into the air, scraping Alfred's throat raw, as his hands clawed into the chair's arms, and his legs went painfully still. Something tasted funny on his tongue. His tongue had been accidentally torn a little by his teeth.

The sadistic doctor practically sighed in pleasure at the sound of Alfred's screams, as his flesh was torn and blood spilled from the dangerous wound to coat his thigh. Thick and warm, crimson blood ran down his leg in all directions.

_Help,_ Alfred thought _, God, somebody help me!_ Deciding the  _poor_  Angel had had enough; she twisted the blade sharply and began to cut down his leg. "You are doing very well, Angel," she said. "I was expecting to hear more of your beautiful screams."

"Shut up," Alfred murmured, as he tried to rise above the pain, it felt like something or someone else was speaking for him. For some reason, he felt someone else's anger and their emotions were becoming his own. It also hurt. The longer he felt them there, the more he was in pain. It was like being torn in half, by your hands, on the inside; it hurt so much.

"You stupid bitch," he spat at her, the pain of being torn apart from the inside bringing tears to his eyes, as their sky blue color began to glow a sinister shade of dark sapphire. The doctor almost blanched. "Leave me the Hell alone, or I will—"

Dr. Arlovskaya slapped him. She actually slapped him, her grey eyes eying him with the look of someone not used to being disrespected. A short huff, as Alfred's eyes dimmed back down, and his skin became paler with bloodlust, and then the sadistic woman straightened her bloody jacket. "I will show you just to what extent your insult has lessened my mercy on you,  _Angel_." She said the term like it was poison on her tongue.

Alfred didn't meet her eyes; instead, he focused his flat gaze on the knife still imbedded in his thigh. He didn't notice it, but the doctor's hands were slightly shaking, as the Angel said in a flat tone not even his voice: "Do your worse."

Nearly a few minutes into the fourth hour of cutting away flesh, showing little regard for nerves and tissue or bones, and recording down all of her findings, Alfred was covered with his own blood. His blood hair was nearly dyed from all of the splatters and careless splashes made on the tray when the sadistic exchanged a knife or tool.

Then, for some phantom reason, right as Dr. Arlovskaya yanked the blade dripping in blood out of the angel's thigh, Alfred's mind just opened. It was as if the past several hours were just coming back to him, as his eyes widened, and another two-sided scream erupted from his bloodied throat. Dr. Arlovskaya blinked at the sound, and then grinned. When Alfred met her eyes, she licked the bloody blade. It was meant to scare him, but the doctor was caught off guard by the taste of the Angel's blood.

It was bitter. Bitter, not even sweet as she had thought it would be, and it burned her tongue. No, it seared her tongue. She wanted desperately to spit the vile substance. The blood was smeared across her pale lips and cheeks, it made her seem the epitome of macabre. She pretended to laugh, after she spat the agonizing blood at Alfred's face.

The blonde winced, one eye closing briefly, as the spitted blood touched his cheek. It did not burn him; it only made him feel like scum. He was now a crying, bloody, and trembling mess as he began to  _plead_. He hadn't been pleading for hours, making the doctor try vainly to elicit a single cry from him. No, he was pleading. It was as if he was two different people. "What do you want from me?"

The doctor smirked, her eyebrow twitching at his question, and she plunged a blade into the bone of his left wing, the blood painting a portion of his feathery white wing a dark and sinister shade of red. Dr. Arlovskaya almost trembled in pleasure, at the sound of the pleas and cries falling from the angel's lips.

Grinning sadistically, she pulled a syringe filled with a murky black liquid. "I think you already know what I want. I want to know how  _you_  got  _his_  attention. Why is he so interested in _you_? You can't be that powerful, because we able to capture you easily, even though you were alone and weak. Answer me or you will find out what this drug does."

_Alone and weak? What the Hell,_ Alfred thought, as he struggled to breath, _what had happened to me? Who is she talking about?_

Confused, Alfred looked up into her eyes shining with anger and her fist clutching the blade shook. He remained silent, still struggling to breathe, and it angered the doctor. It infuriated her. She  _needed_ to know what this pathetic excuse of a creature did to gain her "beloved's" interest.

She  _will_  have Dr. Braginski all to herself, and this  _Angel_  was not going to get in the way of her happiness.

_It was some years ago, when the mysterious and handsome being had come into the building. It was straight out of the blue, the management said a higher profile was coming in to work with them, and that they shouldn't ask questions. Which could only mean either that the newcomer didn't talk much and/or at all, or that he was considered dangerous by even the management._

_He had been assigned next to Dr. Arlovskaya, something which she would have found despicable, but once she saw him: she knew was a miracle, if she ever knew one._

_At first, it was her passing him in the halls, his presence carrying all throughout the corridor, as his eyes remained an interesting shade of dark purple in the lit portion of the room and then bright amethyst in the darker ones._

_Then, one day, she spoke up. She strode up to him, as he waiting to get on the elevator in her passing. "I am Dr. Arlovskaya," she introduced, and extended her hand. Some people on the elevator were surprised, whilst the handsome doctor remained impassive. He simply blinked in disinterest. "Dr. Bragniski," he replied back smoothly, in an accented voice that Dr. Natalya Arlovskaya nearly purred at. She couldn't wait to have him as putty in her hands. He would ask for only one, and look for no one else. She would his only, and he would hers to do with whatever she pleased._

_Dr. Arlovskaya knew she could do it, as she had done so many and multiple times. She knew that she looked beautiful and every man she had met threw themselves at her. She was sure this one would as well. She had been sure of it._

_But it didn't happen. Dr. Bragniski did not throw himself at her, or even open his mouth to compliment her._

_Instead, she tried to hide hard she stared and gaped as the handsome doctor with the most alluring and dark amethyst eyes she had ever seen barely glanced at her and then looked the other way. As if he saw nothing. As if she was nothing._

_He stepped on the elevator, pushed a button and the doors slid closed with a barely uttered sound. Dr. Arlovskaya was left to stand on the other side, speechless._

" _This is not right," She whispered, her tone growing louder as her anger grew as well. "This is not right. It wasn't right, damn it!"_

'He should be flirting with me,  _she thought_ ,and asking for my hand in marriage!'  _Her jaw clenched at his blatant disregard of her beauty. '_ I  _ **will**_  have him as my husband, and  _ **nothing**_ will stand in my way!'

_Natalya stormed down to her lab, and daydreamed about the amethyst-eyed and silver-haired Russian doctor. Whilst also ripping apart some poor victim who she decided had earned itself a "check-up"._

" _I wonder what could have him entranced that he would ignore me." Natalya was becoming more livid by the second, as her victim continued to scream. She raised a brow down at them, and then huffed, as she took a bloody and drenched cloth to put over their nose and mouth. The victim struggled, as it tried desperately to break free so it could breathe._

_Her grip did not relent, as voices down the hall made her perk up. This room's occupants could not be heard, but others on the outside, their voices could be. But what made her become interested in overhearing the conversation; as the victim's efforts to breathe began to die down, it was because of_ **his**   _voice._

" _Da," it was clearly his voice. How could she forget its seductive melody, especially when soon it will be asking for her hand? "I am hoping to court an Angel, I saw one within reach. I want to make him my Solnyshko (Little Sun)." A small laugh, "Hopefully, he won't try to run away, once he sees me."_

" _Th-that is wonderful, sir-err-Dr. Bragniski!" Another voice stammered, "I-I hope, no, I know he won't be able to resist you!"_

_Dr. Arlovskaya recognized the other voice as the puny doctor form the other hall. Dr. Bragniski liked to talk to him, so she took to breaking the puny doctor's wrist every time she caught him in the act. After, Dr. Bragniski left, of course. She mustn't allow him to see her as some kind of threat._

_The sadistic doctor felt the corners of her mouth twitch in the beginnings of her rage. 'Little Sun? Little Sun!? Someone has cast a spell upon my Beloved! I must capture this boy and find out how he accomplished such a thing!'_

_She stuck firmly to her plan, whilst still keeping an eye on her handsome love interest, she broke the puny doctor's arm when he tried to greet her, and then she charmed one of the management into letting her keep the Angel in her custody. The management had obliged._

_The moment she was out of the room, her face darkened. She was going to put that Angel through Hell._

"This lovely drug will make it  _all better_ ," Dr. Arlovskaya purred, as she showed off the syringe of mysterious dark liquid. From the way her voice was dripping with sweetness, and the way her grey eyes shone with sick pleasure, Alfred knew it would not make him feel better at all.

_I have to get away,_ he managed to think, whilst looking for something to distract her. Needless to say, his attempts failed, as her attention was never broken from the bloodied portion of his wing. _Somebody please help me,_ as he thought that he wanted to cry.

Dr. Arlovskaya mercilessly stabbed the needle into his bleeding wing, pushed her finger down on the trigger and injected the onyx liquid into his veins. The drug intensified the pain to the point where Alfred was  _shivering_ , as the throbbing pain clouded his mind.

"Wh-Why are you doing this? I don't understand!" He tried to glare at her, but he only managed to give her a murky look, as his voice and vision slurred "Wh-what did I do to you?"

The sadistic doctor frowned, and then glared. Just as it registered in Alfred's mind that he should try to get away, she had already reached down and gripped his right arm with the strength someone her size couldn't possibly contain and began squeezing until she heard the sickening  _crunch_  of his bones snapping.

**Have no fear my Angel. I am coming for you.**

There was that voice again.

But this time, it was occupied by the voice that Dr. Arlovskaya was all too familiar and keen on hearing: "My Solnyshko, where are you?"

Dr. Arlovskaya's eyes widened drastically at the demonic voice resonating throughout the room. Dropping the blade and the syringe, she grabbed Alfred's throat and began to squeeze, cutting off his air as she began to shake him out of fury, rage boiling her blood as she lost all rational thought.

"Why is  _he_  coming for someone as pathetic as  _you_?" She cried out in rage, and there was a low growl rumbling through the walls. Silence, as Dr. Arlovskaya continued to shake Alfred and choke him at the same time, "He should be coming for  _ **me**_!"

Her eyes darkened, as the Angel looked at her further confused, as if he didn't know what she was talking about. This, Alfred's steady confusion with her questions and his utter oblivions, they only served to enrage her further.

She began to squeeze his neck tighter, restricting the Angel's airways, and causing his vision to tunnel and slowly darken. Just as he thought it couldn't get any much worse, the doctor's insisting that it was all his fault, that he was worthless and trash, added with the choking and shaking—

They all stopped. The pressure was gone. It was a bit too late to save Alfred from falling unconscious, however, but right before he passed out, he could have sworn he saw the most beautiful amethyst eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big and happy thank you to all of you who have reviewed/favorite/followed. They mean a lot to us! Spread the love~


	3. Pulling Loose Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred did not know how or when he fell from Heaven, or when he was going to get back. All that mattered now was staying alive and figuring out the Russian scientist, Ivan Bragniski's, intentions on being overly friendly. Oh, if only he knew… RusAme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: no real warnings here, just that Bai-Marionette does not like this chapter. She had fun with it in the beginning, but this chapter and she are not on speaking terms right now. She apologizes in advances for anything you find wrong with this chapter.
> 
> She says to blame the voices in her head. I say go with her demands, if for anything but for her to shut up. That is all. XD
> 
> #Warning Over.
> 
> P.S. The "Masked Demon" is Turkey. We don't know if that was clear enough, but that's him.

_The dark snake-like being coiled itself around the tree, its mask glinting off the moonlight, before its face abruptly morphed and changed to one of its previous victims. It crept to Arthur, the lone Angel, the lone and distraught Angel not paying him any mind._

_The same Angel that swiftly turned around, a bright emerald fire already seizing up his arm and pointed to the demonic being, he had known all along. The Angel's eyes were cold, and his face placid in expression, as he demanded, "What business do you have in bothering me?"_

_The demon cocked its head, the horrified pain of its victim captured perfectly in its face, as his olive eyes shone through their empty eye sockets. It hissed an answer, "What do you mean, Art-hur?"_

_Arthur inched a bit closer, and as a result of the sudden light, the demon's face began to sizzle and it growled and then recoiled back into the darkness surrounding the forest. Its mask was halfway melted, and one olive eye burned bright in its anger. It snarled, opening its mouth, and revealing the several rows of dangerous teeth, "You little bastard!"_

_Arthur did not respond, but instead, came even closer, until the demon hissed and then coiled into the higher aspects of the tree. Arthur simply flapped his wings and held a brightly lit finger to the tree top. The demon's single eye widened, as Arthur continued to keep his facial expression passive, "One wrong move, demon, and we'll see if you're entrance another mortal again."_

_The demon paused, and then snarled, as it coiled back. It changed faces swiftly, taking on the form of a strong-faced male, a white half mask being swiftly on his nose. It looked down at its legs, and then snarled as a smoke cloud dispersed to leave him with a pair of legs. It looked at Arthur, "I am sealed…for now."_

_Arthur nodded to show that he had bared witness, and understood his grounds. The Angel kept the demon's eyes as he stopped his wings to stand on a branch. "I ask again, demon: What is your business with me?"_

_The demon eyed the still burning ring of fire encircling Arthur's hands to his arms and across his shoulder. The Angel saw him eying it, but made no move to turn it down. When against a demon on their own, an Angel needed all the advantages it could get._

_However, demons had a mind of flipping the table. Which was exactly what the masked demon did, as he smiled and strode closer to Arthur despite how the Angel tried to deter him by holding up his hand? He grinned, showing off brilliant sharp teeth, as he said, "You won't kill me."_

" _Want to bet your life?" Arthur retorted, curling a spiral of flame between his fingers. He flicked it to the demon, who forced himself not to flinch as it seared a side of his cheek. Dark blood welled from the cut, and then the wound slowly closed to leave behind a faint scar. Angel fire never completely healed on a demon's skin._

" _Evet, yes," the demon said, as he tried to stand straight, whilst trying to sound confident. Arthur could either be his savior in becoming stronger, or be his demise by cutting him down with his next words. He had to choose them carefully._

_Arthur made to flick another flame, as he asked, "How so?"_

_The demon came out with, bluntly and tried to hide his fear of Arthur's next reactions:_

" _I know where your son is."_

**You Are Hurt. Shows That You Are Still Alive.**

The terrorized Angel's mind was confused. His entire body hurt, and throbbed painfully. His skin felt itchy, and his face felt swollen. Breathing was feeling difficult. He wanted to believe that he was imagining it, but his blood felt sluggish and chokingly thick in his veins. His throat felt tight, though at the same time, far too lax to be of any good condition.

His muscles were in a war with each other. As soon as one part seemed to loosen, the majority would tighten overbearingly, and make his nerves nearly surrender under the compression of pain. In his chest, it felt awful. His heart couldn't have been in anymore pain, but with each growing moment, he felt he was being proven wrong as the pain steadily grew.

Alfred's very bones were either wet paper or rigid stone. They were either alit with a burning cold sensation akin to severe frostbite, or that of hot liquid metal being poured under his skin. In his shoulder, the burning cold sensation was warped with the feeling of wet paper. His arm hung near limply on his constricted chest, as he fought to breathe.

His other arm was rigid stone, and felt like it was being set aflame. Alfred wanted to move it so badly, to feel something,  _anything_ , in his nerves. But the arm was numb to anything that wasn't pain. So much pain, it welled up and swam over him in horrid waves. It felt never ending, but there had to be an end. There was always an end. There was always a light for every dark, right?

So where was his light in the dark?

But nonetheless, he tried to obey the voice. He managed to force the tips of his fingers to twitch.

**Remain Quiet Now. Do Not Stir Anymore.**

He was even more confused. Why had he been asked to stir, only to be told to be still? He felt something nag at his mind, but when he tried to think about it, his head throbbed and he quit. All he pulled away with in his mind was a murky image of something without any recognizable colors, everything meshed together into an indistinguishable tumble.

Alfred felt something touch his skin, and then hurriedly pull away, as if burned. He wanted to scoff. Of course, he must be "contagious."

_Dumb ass creeper person_ , he tried to think, but his thoughts were cut off as he coughed up something. Something wet began to tread down his chin. He didn't want to risk looking at it.

Something bright shone over his clouded eyes, and he fought to squint. There was a dark silhouette. There was the murmur of voices, and then nothing. Something cold was swept over his face, and more voices, this time one sounded dark and threatening, and the other was near high-pitched and angry.

Alfred drifted in unconsciousness. Darkness swam over him, as he simply contented himself to a quiet and yet, restless slumber. He tossed and turned, face tightening in pain, as he imagined that murky face trying to grab for him beyond some invisible wall.

They were trying to say something, trying to speak to him, but their words were a gargled mess. " _Al-ur-freh!_ " He saw their hand reaching for him, its image even murkier and looking even distorted than he had ever imagined.

An arm – at least, he thought it was an arm – reached for him, its hand flopped and held itself out to him. Its skin was near the color of dirty water, in its distortion, and looked to be made up of dark water particles. " _Al-ur-freh_ ," the cracked and broken voice called again, the hand flopped back at him, as if boneless, and he almost reached out for it.

It sounded so familiar, as if he knew this voice. Wait, did he know his voice? Why was it so familiar?

He made to reach out for it, as a murky and warped face came into view. There was the color green, something bright green. It looked so familiar. Alfred nearly touch the image's fingertips, he could almost feel the warmth of their hand.

**No. You Are Mine.**

Alfred suddenly felt something constrict around his neck, choking and then yanking him harshly back. The warped image called out to him, but now their voice was faint, as if they were being pushed away too. " _Al-ur-freh? Al-ur-freh!_ _ **AL-UR-FEH**_!"

Something rang out to Alfred, and for some reason, he just screamed. It sounded so eerie, though. It sounded like it was two voices at once, and the image seemed to reel back at his voice, and vanish. Then, Alfred was left in the darkness. There was no light.

He was alone again, just as he had always been. He began to cry softly in the dark. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted to be free. He wanted to go home, wherever it was. He wanted to be free of this dark prison.

**My Angel, Forgive Me. But I Cannot Allow You To Leave So Soon.**

Alfred groaned, and felt himself twitch as something almost deathly chilling was brushed against his face. It felt so real, and yet so non-existent. He didn't like it, and he recoiled from the touch. A small slithering sound was heard, and then there was silence for a while.

Some time later, though, came a voice: "My Angel… You need to wake up now…"

Alfred groaned, unable to fully awaken himself past a point, when that unreal coldness was trying to smother him. He was startled awake, as suddenly a spark began to heat his blood and burn away the numbness.

The Angel took in a sudden and painfully reliving breath, as his chest expanded and he simply  _breathed_  for the first time, in a long time. He found himself on his side, pain being a clear throbbing, starting in his hip and traveling up to his head where an all too bright light was shining directly at his eyes. Great. He had a headache now, wonderful.

He groaned, as he turned over, trying to block out the bright lights behind his eyelids. "Too…bright…" Alfred mumbled, not aware of the ominous presence behind him but hoping that someone would have half a shred of a soul to dim the lighting.

"Ah, da, that can be done," The smooth baritone voice had said casually, though there a slight accent to their words that made it nearly indecipherable for Alfred to understand. The lights dimmed and Alfred blinked, as he found himself in the near dark. His eyes were dull, and his eyesight poor, but at least he was able to see some in the dark.

"Look at me," that accented voice commanded. But Alfred purposely ignored it, in favor of looking at what he could see of his person and then in the opposite direction. He wasn't being tied down in a chair. He was free, in a sense, and he had new bandages, he noticed. The door was a bit farther from him, than he liked, but he thought he could make a run for it.

"I said,  _look at me_ ," The voice had dropped to deadly level and Alfred felt that unreal cold settle over the room and his eyes nearly went wide as he saw his breath. He felt exposed, with only the bandages that he could feel on him, and hardly anything else to speak of.

"Look at me, Angel," the smooth baritone said, "You're making things much more difficult, than this has to be." The voice was now at such a deadly tone that Alfred felt himself starting to reconsider and trying to pinpoint its location in the dark.

But when Alfred still did nothing, a sudden pressure came over his chest, nearly crushing it, as his eyes sprang open; he suddenly twisted and rolled to jump out of bed. There was a deep and resounding growl, and the angel instantly regretted the action. He was reminded of his wounds, as they tore open and the bandages were stained anew.

The unreal coldness was a slithering wind that brushed over his body, and then coiled around his neck. It acted as a rope, tugging him back to the makeshift bedding in the dark. Despite how he struggled, the unseen rope did not relent in his capture and he found himself forced back down.

"My Солнышко, you must be more careful…" Alfred groaned from the ground, as his head throbbed. The coldness eventually let up, when it felt he wouldn't try to escape again, and Alfred took in another much needed breath.

He finally glanced up, and his blue eyes met another's pair in the dark. The Angel froze. The eyes were a stunning violet that glowed in the dark, a sort of unearthly feel to them, as Alfred felt fear spike in his veins. Fear came along with recognition.

He remembered those eyes as the same ones he had seen, before he had fallen unconsciousness earlier. Was this the same man who had saved him from that sadistic doctor? He could only hope that his new captor wasn't her friend. He didn't want a repeat of her "experimental testing".

"Who are you?" He wished his voice sounded more firm or more commanding. But all that he could manage was a breathless rasp. He hoped that the other had even heard him.

**I Am Called Many Names, My Angelic Солнышко. But You May Call Me Ivan.**

Alfred's eyes widened at the demonic voice that resonated throughout the room as well as his head. He couldn't see their face in the dark, only their eyes. But he had a pretty good feeling that their lips hadn't moved. There was no way.

"Where am I?" Alfred tried to demand, and then he heard a laugh. It was an actual laugh, a believably audible one, not one that was inside his mind. Alfred inwardly winced in fear. It was almost as bad as the voice that invaded his mind. It made his skin crawl.

The voice responded, "In a room, underground. I am having you under my own testing." Well shit, Alfred thought, so much for avoiding that sadistic doctor's friends. If his voice was any indicator, then this guy was probably worse.

Alfred started to scoot backwards, in a desperate and half-assed attempt to put distance between him and where he could see the eyes. But then, those same eyes narrowed and a sudden pressure shift occurred. Alfred found himself gasping for breath, as his entire body was crushed and now extremely cold.

"No," the voice said flatly but stern, "Nyet, I must make sure you are going to heal properly. I believe Dr. Arlovskaya may have –how is it you say? - Ah yes, 'fucked you up' quite a bit. You can barely stand light, and I can see you squinting, meaning you probably can't see very much, if at all."

Alfred wanted to roll his eyes at the mocking tone, as he struggled to breathe. Once again, eventually the pressure let up and when he was able to breathe, the Angel did so gladly and with enthusiasm. He opened and closed his jaw repeatedly, trying to suck in as much air into his starving lungs.

He heard a chuckle from somewhere close to him, but he ignored it. So what if he looked like a fish out of water. At least, he wasn't a  _dead_  fish out of water.

_Not yet, anyways_ , he thought morbidly, as he chanced his luck and looked up to meet those vibrant violet eyes again. He blinked, as someone snapped their fingers, and then a face was in his direct view. Their large nose was nearly touching his, and Alfred could almost smell the scent of ice and death on their person.

His nose wrinkled, as he felt like he was being forced to wither in their presence. But even under such circumstances, for some reason, he found himself compelled to find that the person was handsome…in a way.

It was a man; Alfred finally had a solid gender, instead of an assumed one. He was a bit pale, had possibly been never really introduced to the sun, or just never cared enough to let it actually color his skin pigment. There were the stunning violet eyes, and a large nose that, oddly enough, looked attractive. He had platinum colored hair that was swept over one eye, where some kind of black shadow was wafting and puffing from, gently brushing the tips of his hair gently every so often.

But what caught Alfred's attention were the man's teeth. They were inhuman. They were too sharp to even be called animal, with two long canines and incisors that were colored a deep black. Alfred had a feeling that the shining he could see over them was saliva, or at least, not completely.

As the large man reached towards him, he couldn't control the flinch and the manly squeak of fear that escaped from his lips.

The man's lips curled into a grim smirk at the yelp that the Angel let out. While it was cute in a sense, he was not pleased of how fearful the unearthly being had become at the hands of an obsessive and jealous woman. His grim smile turned into a deadly frown, as the linen bandages were now soaked ruby red with black-blue bruises littering the Angel's body.

Alfred practically curled in on himself, as the older man snarled and the air temperate dropped to near freezing. "You ca-can't ki-kill me," Alfred's teeth chattered, as he fought against the pressure holding him to the floor. He tried to hold the man's eyes, barely able to, as he snapped, "Le-let me go, damn it!"

Against his better judgment, he suddenly thrashed and flailed, trying to get the man to believe he was a bit stronger than what his battered was. He was weak, Alfred knew it, but he didn't want the other to believe he was. He had to fight. Something in him, he didn't know what it was, but it told him to show off. Instinct told him to be bold, and assert some form of dominance.

That's when he smelled it. A dark and spicy smell that made him suddenly wanted to gag, as his body trembled. Something smelt awful; it smelled sickeningly sweet, along with being very, very  _deadly_. One look upwards and he saw that the man had bit into his finger and a bead of black blood had swelled to the surface.

"Normally, I wouldn't do this, but you look like you need all the help you can get," the man said. His voice was flat, as he continued, "I suggest you wipe that look off your face and drink as much as you can stand. You're in worse shape, than I initially thought."

Alfred continued to lean away from the bleeding finger, and the man snarled, "I'm trying to help. Whatever, she gave you, it is spreading. If you don't quit resisting, you're going to die." He caught the Angel by the back of his hair, and forced his battered body to be still.

_That's blood_ , he thought,  _he wants me to drink blood? Ew, that's so gross. What is he thinking?_  He furiously shook his head, as he tried to scoot as far away from the man as possible. "Let go of me," he snarled, and when the finger came within range, Alfred snapped his jaws at it.

It earned him a tight wrench in his hair, and good old punch to the jaw. The man's eyebrow twitched at the interruption of his plans. "Do you want to die?

Alfred licked his dry lips, an action that did not go unnoticed by the man trying to force him to do something that he knew deep down in him was probably going to do more harm than good. He tried to keep his voice level, as he looked straight up and the man's eyes. The very eyes that bore into his holy soul. "Why the Hell is a human even offering me blood, anyways?"

Ivan's eyes widened slightly and then began to glow in mirth and he smiled smugly at the Angel that had gotten him all wrong. "Who said I was human?"

_Back on the other side, Arthur found himself on the ground, his hand bleeding heavily, as his body hardly so much as twitched. Several broken and charred trees surrounded him. Shadowy serpents were licking at his bloody body._

" _D-da-damn it," the Angel growled, trying to elicit a flame from his fingers. But his hands were suddenly crushed under a hard boot heel, and the Angel cried out in pain. But no one heard him, but for the demon with the mask over his face._

_The demon grinned, licking its fingers of the Angel's blood. He chuckled, "You put up a good fight, Angel. I'll give you that. However," a sudden kick put Arthur on his back and staring into malicious olive colored eyes and an evil grin. "I think I'll raise the stakes a bit, eh?"_

_The demon held up his hand, a billowy ball of shadows dispersing to reveal a deadly scabbard, "What do ya say?"_

_Arthur blinked, as his head lolled. He spat up something, as one hand clutched at his already bloody chest. He had already been wounded, when the demon that had his son had pushed their hand through his chest to shove him out._

_And now, another demon was trying to feed off on him, while he was already downed. A damned scavenger, he realized, as he tried to glare at the demon. He summoned up a curse, his eyes turning black, "Burn with me in Hell."_

_The demon hadn't seen it coming, as it was suddenly consumed in dark and green flames. It yowled and swore, before falling and writhing to the ground. Arthur tried to crawl away, but the demon grabbed his ankle, snarling._

_The Angel looked back to see a near completely melted face. Well, faces, to be more accurate. The curse was burning through any and all of the faces that the demon tried to put on. Skin would melt to reveal bones, and then another face would try to grow on, only to be burned away again._

" _You bastard," the demon snarled, "I'll get you." It grinned, manically, as it laughed in its death, letting go of Arthur, as if laughed as it burned. "I'll get you, Angel! I'll find your little boy and devour him, then I'll wear his face, when I come back to kill you!"_

_Arthur stared in gruesome horror, as the demon continued to laugh in death. "I'll get you, Angel! I won't let you have the last laugh! I always get the last laugh! I always get the last laugh!" When the demon was finally nothing more than wet ash on the charred ground, did Arthur sigh and try to pick himself up._

_But he was too weak. Thus instead, he trembled and then collapsed on the ground. He was hoping to the Gods, that no other demons tried to attack him while he was down again, this time for a longer period of time with no way to defend himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a bunch for the reads and follows and everything, it's always good to wake up and see those responses! Keep it up!


	4. The Wronged Have Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred did not know how or when he fell from Heaven, or when he was going to get back. All that mattered now was staying alive and figuring out the Russian scientist, Ivan Bragniski's, intentions on being overly friendly. Oh, if only he knew… RusAme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Hetalia characters. I am only borrowing them for my sick and twisted amusement.

 

 

_Images wracked Arthur's mind. Powerful images. Horrifying images. Bloody images. The visions of his very nightmares. Alfred, his dear little baby boy, had changed. His sky-blue ye were now midnight blue. His summer golden hairwas now a shade that belonged to the night. His sun-kissed skin was pale, and his blue veins were visible near the crinkles at his eyes. When he grinned, no longer goofy, but now maniacal, Arthur could have sworn he had seen fangs as long as his little finger._

_Something was horribly wrong._

_Waking up was difficult, but not impossible. Staggering to his feet, the beaten and battered Angel glared at the thick dark blood and ash that was splattered over him. This was why Arthur hated demons. They always left behind a mess. Even in death, they left behind a filthy reminder._

" _Ugh," the Angel grumbled, as he flicked a piece of ash from his shoulder. However, it must have come from a nail or tooth, because upon his finger coming into contact with it, the digit began to bleed._

_Growling out a curse, Arthur tried to brush off the fragment, to which it floated down to the ground to simply dissolve away. The Angel stomped on it for good measure. One always had to be sure about things, dead or alive, when dealing with demons. They were all tricky things._

_When all seemed right in putting the demon snake's remains into the dirt, Arthur stood. He was now breathing harder, and his whole body ached more than before. The Angel knew he had been through a battle, unpreapred, but he knew for a fact, that he shouldn't have been hurting this badly._

_Something else was wrong. Terribly wrong._

" _What-?" The Angel meant to ask, before he doubled over, hands barely finding grip on his own middle, as the Angel went into a fit of angry torrents of pain. His chest was burnign, his heart was trying to flee and his lungs were trying to put oxygen in still blood in his veins._

_The Angel choked, and felt wetness on his mouth. Right as he felt this, he meant someone else's eyes. A vision of a man hung in the air, and their appearance did not spell were transparent, so it was a mirage, but the power that surrounded them was definitely real._

" _I will only say this once," the apparation said, as Arthur writhed on the ground. Its face darkened, and they glared. "Stop trying to call back what's mine."_

_Then just as suddenly as it had come, the vision was gone and Arthur's pain was gone. But the Angel did not move. He lay there on the ground, still, trying to delude himself from believing anything. He saw the sun beat down on his frame, when Francis finally came and retrieved him._

_He saw the sun go down, when Mathew returned from where he had gone, but Arthur had not moved. Mathew and Francis had pleaded for the Angel to move even a finger or to say anything at all, no matter what it was he said._

_But all Arthur could think about was how his baby had entangled himself with such a terrifying demon._

"Who said that I was human?"

* * *

Now Alfred was anything but foolish when it came to matters of common sense. It was one thing that his family nor anyone could ever pick on him for; the Angel knew when to leave in the face of danger. And this was danger. Ivan was danger. His face was that of a dangerous creature. Alfred needed to get the Hell away.

However, this could not be easily done when one does not know where they are, nor how to get out in the first place. For all Alfred knew, Ivan was lying in saying these were his quarters, and that Natalya was right outside the door with more of her 'special testing serums'.

Alfred could not take the chance, his instincts were telling him to run. But he didn't know where to run. Everywhere he looked, there was either a wall or he was looking at Ivan. The other male was big, not in a fat sense, but in a sense of presence and build. Ivan was taller and bigger, Alfred was still weak from horrible experiments. If it came down to fighing for freedom, there was little hope of winning.

"What in the Hell do mean by that!" Alfred started, but then paused in his mind. Either this man, Ivan, as Alfred recalled that the other man had called himself, was lying…or the Angel was in very serious danger. Most likely, the second option. Danger exuded from Ivan.

Alfred was shocked to say the least. He was quietly backing away, or okay, not so quietly. The bed squished under his motions, and creaked. It was probably a sabotage bed, after all. Not that the Angel had really expected anything different. What deranged hospital or testing facility wouldn't want to know at any slightest possiblity their beloved guiena pig was trying to escape.

Or possibly having a nightmare, yes. That made much moer sense. This was a nightmare. Alfred was dreaming again. He used to have dreams of being alone, and feeling watched by strange-colored eyes. He couldn't remember what color or what made the eyes strange now, all he remembered was that when he had the dream, someone would wake him up, screaming about something. Something bad.

If this was a nightmare, but still a dream nonetheless, then Alfred might have a chance. He could get out of here. He was always brought up not to distrust his dreams, because they were very revealing and could be the answer he was looking for.

Lost in thought, Alfred didn't even realize that he was cursing at the supposed non-human. Half of the stuff leaving his mouth was in a different language that made the larger male's eyes twitch. If the Angel hadn't know any better, he might say that the other's eyes had changed color. From their unique color of purple to an oddly familiar shade of dark reddish. But that doesn't happen to humans…

Humans. Alfred blinked, as Ivan continued to stare at him, but with a new sense of perception about him. The smile he wore was close-lipped, but it was still eerie, almost as if, the other knew something that the Angel didn't. it was almost as if…

"There's sometihng behind me, isn't there?" Alfred blurted, and by the brief nod that Ivan gave, a correction was made in Alfred's mind: Not only was Ivan not a human, that look in his eyes was still evil for even the most malice-defined individual, the Angel was in deep shit.

To say that Alfred used what little energy in his wings to fly off the bed was an understatement. The Angel pratically vanished, only for his torn and bloodied and weakened wings to sputter in flight and force him to stop at the door. The young man was in a corner, a dark man, and Ivan had not moved. He was still smiling, and his grin seemed to have grown. He started to chuckle.

A shadow was slowly slithering up the Angel's thigh, but it was weightless, held no warmth, it did not speak within itself, and as a reward for its efforts: it went undetected, until it found enough cover to prove its purpose. To bind the Angel from moving, specifically, moving away at all from Ivan.

Screaming in horror at suddenly being bound. Struggling only brought the younger body to the ground, and held there by the many shadows now whispering freely into his ear. Even the damned spirits within the thin darkness of shadow were laughing at him.

 

 

_Imprudent._

_Foolish._

_Prey._

The last word made the very blood in the Angel's veins thud in his ears, as he struggled all the more vigorously. Ivan was not getting his life. Alfred didn't want to die, at least, he thought he was going to die. That was what evil people did to their victims, after they tied them up so that they couldn't escape right? Kill him.

 

 

_Imprudent._

_Foolish._

_Prey._

_See how he looks at us?_

_Like he can see us?_

_You cannot see us._

_You don't have the eyes yet._

_Yet. But they will come._

_He can't come._

_He can't escape._

_He thinks he can escape us._

_He cannot escape us._

_Why does he struggle?_

_Don't struggle, the sting will come._

_The sting is worse than any fire on Earth._

_Earth._

_What does it mean to live on Earth?_

_Why is an Angel on Earth?_

Why did those words ring so loudly in his ears? The Angel wanted nothing more than the voices to be silenced, so that their opinions did not haunt him. Alfred was becoming more panicked, with each time the voices spoke. They were all talking at once; some to him, some laughing at him, and some talking amongst each other. But none of them were the same. There were deep voices, light voices, dark voices, childish voices and then the voice of a harpy.

Alfred was losing his mind. He was hearing voices in his head. He could feel shadows all around him, turning parts of him gently, btu holding him firmly in place. Ivan was massaging his finger to get the moss of the blood open the air. Just the smell of the black dot welling up was enough to make the Angel want to vomit. It was disgusting. This was inhuman. This was wrong.

Why was everything so wrong?

Sure some things about this man and the total situation seemed odd, to say the least, but to openly hint that he may not be human? To give him blood, and for these shadows – these voices of the damned silently obeying his will – this was more than odd. This was bad. Very bad, this was dangerous. Alfred was in danger. But there was no way to get free. There was no clear exit. There was not an even a door, Alfred realized with a sudden start. He was in a room with no door. How the Hell had he gotten here?

 _What have I gotten into now?_ Alfred wanted to beg aloud, but something in him told not to open his mouth. Not only because the smell of the blood was wafting around, now almost enough to be called a trickle, but something else. There was something else that made the Angel want to keep silent and his mouth closed. Maybe it was the shadows, there were a few selected ones that were thin. They were grazing his cheek, as if feeling the softness of it, but the touches sent the Angel's nerves on alert. Something was wrong about the way that they were touching him.

Something very wrong was going on. Or was about to…

His instincts were proven right, almost as suddenly as the Angel had been gagged and bound him to the ground, were those same shadows trying to forcely open his mouth. Alfred tried to close it as best he may, but he was overpowered with his weak physical state. Angry tears pricking his eyes, and his tongue starting to dry from the air, the Angel heard his heart batter frantically in his ears.

The shadows held his body close, his mouth open, as Ivan moved closer. The larger male looked almost giddy with excitement, while Alfred wanted nothing more to bite the big nose oly hovering a mere inch from his face. However, if he did that, he might be killed.

Alfred tried to move away, despite the circumstances, but he was not allowed free reign of his own body. The shadows made him vulnerable, and when Ivan's large and cold hand made to hold his cheek; Alfred flinched. The voices laughed at him, but the Angel couldn't help it. Every nerce was alit with fear, he was trapped and bound, forced to obey, and he was afraid. He was in danger and afraid. As much as he believed and loved being thought of a hero, he wanted a hero to save him. Where was his hero?

Who saves the hero when he cannot save himself?

The platinum-haired man was smiling, as he moved his bloody finger into Alfred's mouth. The Angel's lips trembled, as he fought to shut them before Ivan could reach them. But the digit invaded his mouth anyways, and the exact that the blood dripped to come into contact with Alfred's tongue, he knew it.

The blood  _burned_  his tongue, to the point it made his eyes water and his body tremble. It tasted horrible. It was dark, demonic, and the epitome of macabre. The poor Angel tried to spit it out, but the hand holding his jaw closed forced him to swallow the vile liquid. It burned down the whole way, almost making the Angel gag and vomit a little in his mouth, but his throat burned too much to take the risk.

Then the inner pain began, it started the faint background thorbbing such as that of mild cramps. But it quickly escalated from a dull burning, in time lapse of a second, to a fiery torrent erupting under the Angel's skin. His skin literally was burned, it changed in front of his eyes. The sight of third-degree burns to the color of blackened ash, and then the sight of burnt tissue trying to recover from some prior onslaught of misery. And it hurt. It hurt like a bitch. It hurt like nothing that Alfred had ever felt in Natayla's experiments, under her scrunctizing and sadisitic eye.

"Silly little Солнышко," Ivan began, as the Angel writhed and screamed in pain. The platinum-haired man grinned, chulking at the miserable sight of Alfred coughing up blood as he tore his fingers at his mouth. He had actually tore a piece of his tongue, and one of his teeth had been chipped. "If Angels are real, why can't Devils exist?" His lips turned into a smile that could freeze the flames of Hell itself, as he watched blue eyes widen to the effect of a young child in a room full of death,and the sight of the effect of his blood began to take over in the poor Angel.

Alfred could have survived as an Angel, without the blood. He hadn't needed to take it. But he had been tricked into seemingly doing it. Ivan had tricked the Angel's body into thinking the blood offering had been willing on both ends, even though Alfred had given Ivan no blood of his own. At least, that he had been conscious enough to have seen and know of.

"Wh-what did you do to me? Who ar-are you re-real-ly?" Alfred managed to choke out, as his whole body began to wasn't human, that much was now obvious. But there was something else about him, something sinister and it spelled both danger and a faint hint of attraction. Although needless to say that between dry heaves and the upwelling of blood, his insides set aflame and trying to exit his body through his vomit, the Angel had more than just his hands full. He couldn't worry over something as simple as 'Oh wow, this guy who is most assuredly trying to kill me, he looks great!'

Despite somewhat chuckling at himself at that thought, Alfred doubled over as an excruciating tsunami wave of pain washed over. The base of his wings began to feel as someone was taking a burning iron rod to their base and then beating the poor wings mercilessly.

**Do not fear. I am here for you.**

The Devil pulled the Angel into his arms, as he cried out in pain. The larger was already planning not to make the only sound that left his new pet's lips be fully pain. Oh no. There would be please, dishonoring, disgraceful and self-loathing pleasure; the younger would come begging to him and feeling as if the only thing to leave him feeling more than broken inside would be to be broken elsewhere.

"Do not worry," Ivan said, trying to mockingly pet the pained body in his arms. "The pain will subside in a matter of seconds." He continued to mock the other's pain by playing friendly. Fury blazed in those blue eyes, as they dipped in and out of several color schemes. They were red, they turned gold, then they were green.

The trembling Angel was trying to gain his composure. He was gritting his teeth, the pain trying to overwhelm but he was fighting it. He was fighting for all his worth and then some more of his spirit. But the venom now spreading throughout his form was even more determined to succeed. It was winning the battle for power. The pain was coming over more of his nerves, and it was swelling…Before abruptly, it came to a sudden stop.

Alfred had been siezing on a breath, his eyes dilating and his hair probably standing on its ends. Ivan blinked down at him, but as Alfred made a small gasping noise and move to intake much needed air, he felt a cool sensation like that of a wind brush over his hot skin. When Alfred looked to his bare limbs, the burns were no longer there, and the fiery blood had healed all and any of his wounds.

But he could feel a black and evil presence taking over in his body. Cursing Ivan for all his worth and hoping for the worst to happen to him, along with Alfred's revenge, came a startling pain in Alfred's lower back. It was as if someone had just tried to snap his spine in little inches, and was crushing each vertebrae with each excruciating action.

His thoughts were cut off; as he suddenly fell out of Ivan's grasp and fell to the floor, as gracefully as a wet cloth. His pure white wings that felt as if they were once on fire, had suddenly begun to darken. Those wings, which had once mocked snow with its color, were now turned a shade of ebony that even ravens would be jealous of.

Alfred blinked back to consciousness, much later, and found Ivan gazing almost admirably at him. The younger started, eyes going wide, as he suddenly back pedalled to another section of the floor. Except…this wasn't the same room that he had been in before. There were windows now, and people in white coats were looking at him. They pointed, wrote on their clipboards and spoke amongst each other, but they all stared at the monstrosity that they believed was in front of them.

With wide eyes, and shaking palms, Alfred looked down at himself. His hands wre like porcelain, but with veins and a steady heartbeat. Through the mirrored windows, Alfred could see himself and he gave out a scream that was nearly identical to a banshee's howl.

Meanwhile,Ivan was enraptured by the raven feathers that now sprouted from the Angel's back, as well as the scientists currently observing and offering millions upon millions to have Alfred in their testing facility. Ivan would mind them later. For now, he was in awe with Alfred's mental breakdown than any of those mad scientists' expansive checkbooks.

"Fredka," Ivan began, speaking to Alfred in the old Ancient language. The younger body turned slowly, his movement stiff with rage and his eyes nearly black in the same. Ivan continued on, as if unafraid, "I liked your pure wings before, but  _these_ are so much better looking on you."

He crossed the space between them with confidence, his presence beginning to crack down on the younger more than it had ever had. Ivan ran a pale, clawed hand down the wing, making it flinch and swipe at the floor, causing a semi-deep and thin trench to appear behind it. Ivan ruffled his claws into the black feathers, smiling victoriously. He thought he had won. He knew that he won.

The Angel's lightly tanned skin had darkened to a shade that was sun-missed and pale; his bright blue eyes turned into a midnight blue. Ivan smirked at the changes that overcame his Angel. The fear finally left in the younger's eyes, and Alfred jumped into a defensive pose.

"What did you do to me?" He seethed through his teeth, noticing he had small fangs that were not only almost noticeable over his pale lips, but also caused a slight accent over his words. He growled low in his throat as the demon's smile turned smug. It was a smirk that the blonde wanted to slap off his face.

"My dear little Солнышко," Ivan began, and putting a firm hand on the small of Alfred's back, "Are you sure you really want to know what happened to you? I wasn't even entirely sure that it would work." Alfred met the eyes of one of the scientists, and when he snarled, the glass cracked. A small spiderweb had appeared over that one scientist's view, and the humans were all in a panic as they talked over the occurrence.

Ivan took back the other's attention, as he said, "But you should be grateful it did! I would hate to loose such a pretty toy." The Russian grabbed ahold of the Angel's jaw and turned his head back and forth, inspecting the changes his blood brought onto the blonde. "Yes, you'll make a fine toy, da?~"

Alfred yanked his jaw out of the man's hand and headed over to the mirror across the room to see more closely what the other – now, a figurative demon in his mind - had done to him.

His mouth gaped open as he saw his reflection for the first time since his metamorphasis. He tried to speak, but no sound came out so he was left gaping like a fish. He didn't know how it had happened, but he knew there was no going back to the way he was.

As he had seen earlier, his eyes were a dark shade of blue, and he was overly pale. But what he hadn't seen he didn't want to believe. His sunshine-blonde hair was now dark. Dark. No longer blonde, his hair was black. Not only that, but his once round ears now formed a little point at the end, blunt canines now inhumanly sharp, and the power he could feel spreading through his veins was making his head hurt.

This was not the picture of a pure Angel. This was something…darker.  _Just my luck,_ he thought, backing away and trying to mentally tell himself that he could undo this. That he would figure out a way to get home and everything would back to normal _. I get away from a psycho bitch only to end up in the hands of a psycho bastard that decides to play God with my appearance…_

"Fredka, come," Ivan commanded in English, and Alfred's head instantly came up despite how the other had tried to deny the instinct. One scientist looked more smug than the dejected others, and it was obvious who had won in the battle of the purse.

"It is time for us to leave now." Ivan let a wave of his power wash over the blonde, enjoying the fright on his beautiful features. His body ached to take the young man as he was innocent, yet tainted. It was a tantalizing combination that made the other's mouth water. He licked his lips and took the now newly changed being by his hand to the space where the door should have been.

Ivan stared at it briefly, almost in the time of a blink, and the space was open. Alfred's eyes were wide, but when he looked at Ivan and the scientists, he knew that they knew. They knew what he truly was. They knew what Ivan was. And they were going to do something very awful. Despite Alfred's futile efforts to get free from Ivan's hand, an Asian male stepped forward.

Alfred looked at them all, feeling the danger radiate from their skin and the look of sadism shine in their eyes. Whatever they were planning was not going to be good for Alfred. But Alfred already knew that. What didn't know what was going on or what was going to happen to him.

All he knew what that he had undeniably Fallen. More than that, he had Fallen to Ivan and he was going to be for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animaegan Notes: Gah! I swear work and school will be the death of me! I was lucky enough to get an entire day free from the two of them! Enjoy!
> 
> Bai-Marionette Notes: Sometimes, I wish I could update more often. Then I see my work and research papers, and go, "Oh. That's why."


	5. The Tainted Apple of Their Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred did not know how or when he was taken from Heaven, or when he was going to get back. All that mattered now was staying alive and figuring out the devilish Russian scientist, Ivan Bragniski's, intentions on being overly friendly. Oh, if only he knew… RusAme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animaegan: I do not own any of the Hetalia characters. I merely borrow them for my sick and twisted amusement. I APOLOGISE FOR THE REALLY LONG WAIT!!! Summer is a sensitive time to me (for reasons I won’t bother you with) and I was distracted by work and getting ready for school. ENJOY!!!
> 
> Bai: I have no excuse.

_“Bring him back,” Arthur whispered in the dark. Francis replaced the cloth on his lover’s forehead. “Please bring him back, I’ll do better.”_

_“Shush and be shushed,” Francis tried. Mathew sat silently, off to the side, trying to avoid Arthur’s pained face. It was pathetic, he knew it, to feel some jealousy how torn Arthur was over Alfred’s vanishing. But he couldn’t help it. Alfred had been gone so long and Arthur still hadn’t progressed at all. His condition had only deterioratdd further._

_Would Arthur have been as bad if he had disappeared? Francis?_

_Would anyone?_

_Mathew had always been the good Angel. He had always done as he was told, to the best of his ability. He had learned quickly, he excelled, he was smart – brilliant, and yet, Alfred was always an apple in their eye. Why?_

_Because Alfred was louder._

_When they were learning to fly, Mathew had jumped from Francis’ arms to immediately catch himself with his wings in flight. He had had instinctual flight, much like a bird. Alfred had cried and wailed in Arthur’s arms for a few more weeks, while Mattie flew on his own with Francis’ supervision. Only after Arthur had calmed and entertained every one of Alfred’s fears did he even attempt to leave the other’s bosom. Even then, when he tried to jump off – he fell face first into the ground. He had tried to fly and failed and immediately started crying. Arthur had scooped him up with a sigh and waited even longer for him to mature._

_Right as Mathew was learning to do tricks and perform moves in the air and testing his wing’s ability, Alfred finally flew. He was floppy, he glided more or less along the ground, but everyone was so proud of him. They were so proud that they didn’t even notice how Mathew looked on from among the taller trees and wished his brother would fall down and cry so that the younger could be the only flying prodigy._

_But things hadn’t gone his way._

_Alfred soon took over the title of flying prodigy. His wings turned out to be stronger, more agile, and even whiter than Mathew’s. He was always loud, his voice rose over Mathew’s, and he always had the spotlight no matter the circumstance._

_Even now. He wasn’t in the room, hadn’t done a damn thing beyond probably wander off with some friend of ours, and yet he was still the centre of attention. It made Mathew’s blood boil. He hoped his brother stayed missing long enough for everyone to forget about him – or better yet, come back in such a way that no one even recognised his return._

* * *

“What are they going to do?”

Alfred was near panicking. It was all happening so fast. Everything was changing, he could feel it, he knew it – nothing was the same. Nothing was right, or was this the new definition of right? Ugh. “What the Hell is going on? Hey! Answer me!”

To him of all people, of all the Angels in existence, he had to be the one picked out and used as some kind of ginuea pig.

The monster standing next to him did not reply, had barely acknowledged him the entire time. But now, he smirked as he ran his clawed hands through the ex-Angel’s raven locks. Pale and deadly fingers stroked his downy wings. Said wings trembled, cerulean eyes flashing to gold as he let out a snarl that caused his fangs to graze his lip.

Ivan only scoffed at his display of aggression and Alfred knew he was being played off as a joke. He was a joke now. Not even an Angel, he didn’t have his ‘wholesome purity’ anymore, he wasn’t technically a pure being. Not close enough to a demon to count either, he had some of the blood running through his veins and he now looked the part, but he still didn’t pass. He thought rationally and his mindset was still Angelic in nature. Nope.

He was just some cornerbreed, a mishap, a fucking experiment to laugh at and poke with needles.

He wasn’t even used to his new body at all – in the short time he had been in it – he was confused by the voices, the shadowy and wispy words that were whispered to him, told him to do things and say things – and he knew they were wrong. But now… he was having a harder time in recognising them in that black and white vision. Things that were once good, like sunrise and blessed objects, now hurt him and he knew they were bad. Bad things, like violence and negative emotions, were now good and he felt good when they occurred.

He didn’t like this change.

As a result of his earlier ignorance, a small bead of blood started to well at his lip. He tried to lick it away before he drew attention to himself, but it was no use. The smell of blood led to him instantly feeling not only Ivan’s, but everyone else’s chilled gaze upon him. Out of instinct, he shrank in on himself and unconsciously moved closer to the taller demon.

Why did he feel safer next to him _?_ He could only ask himself a thousand times and still not come up with a rational answer. He wanted to rip out his confusion and this new life from himself and go back to being his old self – pure, white and just Angelic; where he was sitting outside on the meadow with his brother, talking about nothing. Well, he had always been the real talker between them, Mattie had seemed to prefer listening than talking.

Right as he thought about his brother and the others had turned their attention elsewhere to continue their discussion, the voices came back.

_Bond._

Alfred snarled at the air, only earning once glance from a white coated individual whom he glared at so he could be left to his own.

_Fuck._

Bullshit, keep dreaming, he challenged the voice mentally. It laughed at him and he wished it was tangible so that he could strangle it – no wait. Damn. There goes another example of how his perception and reaction had changed after this… transformation.

_Love._

Alfred wanted to puke and tried to find something else entertain himself with. He looked over to see the scientists and tuned back into the conversation to hear the scientist were very adamant about something to which Ivan kept coolly denying. Something about reproduction and market. What?!

“It could prove to be worth millions,” one scientist proclaimed. “We have to release his studies!”

“Nyet,” Ivan responded, looking down at Alfred. “I don’t think so. I don’t much like sharing.”

One look to the demon in question and he could look in the other’s eyes and see how Ivan was internally jumping with glee at how ‘submissive’ his new toy was acting. In truth, Ivan’s blood was like buckshot that was full of tranquilizer. The fact that Alfred was still able to stand despite the bite was incredible. But he was just standing, doing much else required effort that he shouldn’t have.

Unfortunately, he knew the other was already in the process of making a mental note to slip the smaller demon more of his blood to subdue him further. He just knew it. Ivan, that bastard, was smiling!

“But think of what could be done with multiple minds. Mr. Bragniski, this could be the chance of an eternity for you. Yes, he might get shipped around, but –”

“Fredka, you have something on your lip,” Ivan purred, turning away from the discussion. Alfred could sense that he was pissed about something. Two options: Roll with it or put up a tantrum. The smart answer was there, it was just also incredibly stupid. “Shall I get it for you?”

The low rumble in his voice was shamefully alluring, even more so now for Alfred, from the blood running in his veins. It sent a tremor of both fear and arousal down the fledgling’s spine. He hated it. He hated everything. He hated everyone – especially, Ivan, for doing this to him.

Ivan could feel his legendary control slipping rapidly from his grasp as he watched the blue eyed demon begin to tremble and slowly shift back away. The fear was intoxicating. Delicious. His violet eyes bled, turning to a rich crimson colour, as he snatched both of Alfred’s hands with his right hand and used the left to brutally grasp his jaw.

Alfred made a choked gasp, and then a snarl. The ex-Angel glanced to the scientist, but it was like they were paralyzed by fear…  or was it something else?

Having a good sense of what the Demon King was about to do, Alfred struggled with a renewed fervour to get out of the stronger demon’s grasp.

The taller male just smirked cruelly and dug his claws into the fallen Angel’s wrists and jaw. He licked his lips and practically purred in delight at the whimper that slipped from those sinfully pure lips.

Ivan leaned down and lightly licked at raven’s lips as he caught the blood on his tongue. When he felt the taste, a taste as bittersweet as dark chocolate but still with a hint of sweet purity, he growled wildly and Alfred could feel his knees buckle at the sound of his - _Master_ , a voice supplied - growling in pleasure.

The demon crashed their lips together painfully, fangs colliding and drawing more of the demon’s and the ex-Angel’s blood. Alfred could feel more of that _vile_ blood sliding down his throat, forcing more pain, arousal, and demonic dominance infesting his once virtuous soul. He hated it, hated how the voices grew louder in their chorus of cheers, and how he felt more of his old self slipping through his fingers. Turning him into more the abomination that he was now.

**You will submit. There is no escape for you.**

No, he wanted to scream. He wanted to beg, plead, anything to show that he did not want the Change. He didn’t want to lose himself.

But he could feel the demon’s power flowing through him but at the same time, it was clogging his veins, pushing the Angelic blood out of the way. It was crippling him and restoring him, dominating him and yet playing submissive and gaining the upper hand in manipulating his senses. It was subduing him and being subdued, it was seducing his very mind and yet…his body was seducing the blood right back by accepting it.

He couldn’t move. He could feel the little control over his body  - it was quickly escaping his grasp, like water through a sieve. He couldn’t catch it all, not even a little, not even a fragment.

The demon tightened his grip on the younger’s jaw, forcing his lips to part. He plunged his tongue into the boy’s mouth and slid his hand down the fledgling’s throat and chest, resting his hand on the smaller being’s waist. He tugged their hips together and relished in the gasp that escaped from his prey.

Ivan could feel the eyes of the other scientists boring into them and pulled away from the enticing boy. “Fredka. I do believe my contract has ended, I have succeeded where others have failed in capturing and de-purifying an Angel,” he smirked at the other scientists.

“I shall not waste anymore time,” he continued. “We are leaving. _Now_.”

 With a wave of his hand, cold and desolating shadows appeared on the wall. Shadowy tendrils began to spread across the wall and Alfred could just _feel_ the pain and screaming from the other side.

There was no fucking way he was going through there. Nope – and yet, Ivan was dragging him along. The scientists were slowly coming back to their senses. But still Alfred couldn’t be bothered to worry about them when there were other pressing matters.

Like why did Ivan kiss him. Alfred hated him – he could feel the hate in his bones, it was so deep, and yet... He had also enjoyed the kiss. But there was no way in fucking Hell that he had enjoyed that. No way…right?

Right?

Alfred spat out the taste of the other demon’s blood. No use, he could still feel the other’s influence over him. But even more strongly, he could suddenly feel the tight and near painful grip on his arm, as he was forcibly dragged through the portal.

The ex-Angel saw the hopeless scientists, not wanting to lose such a precious specimen, make a move to take the subject from the demon’s claws. But then a surge of power washed up from the ground and shrouded the whole building in its presence and a chilling glare from Ivan made them freeze in their spot as the very walls trembled at his gaze.

Alfred’s eyes widened when at one instant:  the scientists looked fine but a mere blink later were coughing up copious amounts of blood. Their bodies began collapsing, one by one, as Alfred felt the cold darkness washing over him. His eyes slid closed.

He was hoped, _prayed_ , wanted nothing more than to know that this was all a dream and he was back home with Mattie and his fathers.

Cold.

It was so cold.

He would swear upon every feather and every fibre of being that he wanted nothing more to curl up at Arthur’s feet as Francis and Mathew sang a song in the twilight. Anything but the cold.

Anything but to be cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animaegan Notes: Meep. OTL
> 
> Bai-Marionette Notes: Still haven’t thought of an excuse for being tardy. Not gonna.


	6. Manipulation is the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred did not know how or when he was taken from Heaven, or when he was going to get back. All that mattered now was staying alive and figuring out the devilish Russian scientist, Ivan Bragniski's, intentions on being overly friendly. Oh, if only he knew… RusAme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animaegan: waht  
> Bai: I am the sole reason this is so late. Sole reason. Blame me.

* * *

 

_Francis sighed for the umpteenth time, covering Arthur with the blanket that had once been Alfred’s own and was the only thing that seemed to calm down the Brit nowadays; everytime he was caught in a fit of wails and cursing and yelling, the blanket would be the ultimate defense against his depressed rage. He was getting to be so violent now, whereas before he would only cry and plea for Alfred’s return, he was now angry and storming around the acres. He swore death and punishment for so much as blinking wrongly at something in his direction, it had gotten to the point where it was almost dangerous to be around him._

_Leaving the room, he almost second thought about locking the window but then his face gave a dull ache. And he locked it soundly. Insane or severely griefstricken, whichever it may be, if the only means of protecting himself and the rest of the world from the Angel’s wrath was to lock him up – then, he would be locked up until his mood cleared. Or Alfred came home, but Francis doubted that the latter. He knew the boy well, he held a grudge even better than Arthur – he would have to brought back, kicking and screaming – or dead._

_But that was another matter in itself._

_Francis left Arthur’s door, heart breaking slightly inside his chest, as he went off in search of things to do to occupy his mind. But he came upon the halfway, he sighed as he saw his mental tasklist lengthen at the utter disaster of his home. Broken furniture – torn rugs – glass shards on the floor – ripped curtains – claw marks in the wall; Francis sighed again as his shoulder sent a tingle down his arm._

_This situation was getting out of hand. And unbeknownst to him, it was about to get worse._

_“Papa?” The French Angel was startled from his thoughts, a bent curtain rod in hand, as he turned around to see Mathew frowning at his feet. Inwardly, the older could only wonder on the grieft in his remaining son’s mind. He must have been tormented day and night._

_Mathew kept his eyes down and his mouth shut. He had wanted to come clean about his suspicions on where Alfred might have gone and at least ease the anxiety of one of his parents – the other was halfway to insanity, if not already there – but he had come up with a better plan._

_Why say anything at all? The longer Alfred was, the better the rest of their family would be. Arthur would get over it – and if not, his insanity would kill him. The youngest Angel wouldn’t have to dirty his hands. Francis could move on._

_They were better off without both of them._

_“What is it?” Francis asked. Blue eyes so kind, so fragile, so trusting – so weak and malleable. Mathew didn’t feel any source of regret or even an ounce of wrong for what he was about to do to put the first part of his plan into action._

_He bit his lip softly, making himself seem timid and nervous, worried even, “What…what if Alfred never comes home? He’s been…he’s been gone a long time and-“ Cut off words, mimic uncertainity._

_True to his nurturing nature, his parent fell for it. It was almost too easy to wrap the grief-weakened heart around his finger. Mathew wanted to roll his eyes, weak – they were too weak. “Oh, Mathieu, do not think like that – Alfred will come back, I’m sure of it. He just needs some time to himself.”_

_“Over a decade?” Mathew brought up, pushing sore buttons, as he crossed his arms. “Dad – he’s never held a grudge this long. He’s never left this long.”_

_Something in the older’s eyes flickered, “We must keep hope, Mathieu, it will help Arthur get better – we just need to be a bit more patient. Just a little longer, eventually Alfred will come back to his senses and return home, then Arthur will see him and get better. Then everything will be back to normal.”_

_How naïve. Mathew began tofeign defeat, sighing softly, “But-“_

_“No buts,” Francis said over him, taking his son into his arms and petting his hair. The younger Angel could have snarled. He hated being treated a child even more than Alfred – he loathed being thought as inferior. He was a powerful Angel and a deadly one. He protected their gardens now, he was the one to patrol – Francis was too busy cleaning up after Arthur’s rampages to pay much attention to their home now._

_This was where Mathew stepped in – and unlike his heroic twin, he wouldn’t hesitate to take a life if it meant his was guaranteed to continue. That’s why he was superior. He paid no mind to trivial things like heroism or villianry, those were simple human beliefs and therefore below him._

_And as much as the young Angel hated being seen or thought as weak – there was benefits to being underestimated. There was nothing more satisfying than catching his prey off guard._

_“ –One day, little Mathieu, you will understand and grow up to be a very wise Angel,” Francis smiled down at him. Mathew smiled back, hiding the malice well, muting his dark thoughts even better._

_“Yes, Papa,” he said, giving the other a brief hug before pulling away. “I understand – I’m going to go patrol for a little while,” he lied. Patrol translating to pushing their borders further. Kick out those fairies that Arthur wasn’t guarding over anymore, their burrows were an eyesore and their shrill voices irritated him even more._

_Francis laughed. Mathew almost laughed at him. “Such a little workaholic you are, there’s no need to scoping out for trouble when there isn’t any!” His laugher died a quick second later into nervousness, as he asked, wing tensing, “There isn’t any, is there?”_

_“No, Papa,” Mathew lied through his teeth. “It’s been quiet. I just like to be sure.”_

_Francis’ shoulders lost their previous tension, “Ah, good…well go have your patrol then… I’ll just be cleaning up this mess –“ He gestured to the remaining disaster. “As you can see, I still have much to do so dinner may be a little late…”_

_Mathew made up a smile, “I can cook tonight, maybe feed Arthur too,” he added at the end. “You look like you need some rest.” I want you out of the way, he thought to himself._

_“That is…that is very sweet of you, Mathieu, thank you,” Francis beamed. “You are growing to be a fine young man.”_

_Mathew’s smile widened and he nearly laughed. “I was raised right.”_

* * *

 Alfred hated the cold.

Cold – why did everything bad have to be cold? That operating table he had been strapped to had been cold. His change into this - this freak show of an appearance – had felt like all of the warmth had been sucked from him. And now – he was being dragged to unknown portal to who knew where. Life hated his guts.

Alfred could feel the demon dragging him through the portal - and he had a heavy feeling in his heart that this portal would surely lead to Hell itself. For where else would this demon take him? Definitely not to his home or at least not any form of place he’d call home – not like he could exactly walk back to his family the way he was now. They’d have to kill him if he even stepped on the soil.

He was tainted, impure, disgusting – he wasn’t like them. Not anymore. He looked too much like the enemy and not anything like a friend. It tore his heart every time he remembered this. He couldn’t go home even if he wanted.

Nevertheless, the idea of living in Hell was unflattering. At the very idea of being among the sick beings there, his skin crawled and his hair stood on end just being near the entrance to the damned.

 _I don’t want to go in there_ , he thought to himself. He could faintly hear screams and the smell of brimstone left a vile taste in his mouth. It was like acid on his tongue and bile almost choked him as it rose in his throat. He didn’t want to go through the gateway and his body was just as upset he had to as his conscious was.

But Ivan was obviously getting impatient with the fledgling, as he practically tossed the younger demon through the portal. It had been a sudden thing, no preparation or warning at all before the ex-Angel felt his soul squashed to a fractional decibel of its former size before it swelled and Alfred felt his lungs take in air once more on the Other side.

The first thing he registered was that the air stank of Brimstone. Secondly, his body had made a satisfying ‘thump’ on the other side, making him grunt as his face collided ungracefully with a rock. _Way to make an entrance_ , he told himself.

Taking another breath and Alfred was gathering his thoughts as a large being stepped through the portal and their shadow encompassed his form. He almost gulped, trying to gather back strength in his legs to stand when he was yanked up.

He came face to nose with Ivan, and the ex-Angel snarled. “Just what the fuck was that for? Ever heard of warning someone before you shove someone through a-” Alfred started to say at his ‘Master’ but instantly regretted opening his mouth as a cruel smirk curled its way onto the taller demon’s face. “Wait, that’s not what-”

His words were cut off as a clawed hand slapped his face with enough force to send the smaller being to the floor once again. _Well, wasn’t that a warm welcome to Hell_ , he thought sourly. He sure knew how to pick his friends in this hellhole. Literally.

Ivan’s smirk grew darker as the fledgling raised a hand to his face to find four gashes marring his cheek. The wounds healed seamlessly right before his violet eyes, even as Alfred moved to wipe off the blood that had escaped from the cut. However, before the ex-Angel could, an ice cold hand halted him.

The raven glared at him, hatred in his eyes as Ivan cajoled, “Fredka, it’s not polite to waste such a delicious treat.”

Alfred shivered at the dark and seductive tone emanating from the devil above him. He tried to deny the instinctual attraction threatening to muddle his judgment. He was above petty things like lust – wasn’t he? No matter, even if he wasn’t, he would have better standards than going for this psycho. He hated him…didn’t he? Everything in his head was so messed up. He couldn’t tell his thoughts from what his instincts said anymore, his new body was already being a pain.

Seeing as his little fledging was making no moves to snatch his hand back, Ivan pulled the bloody digits up to his mouth and dragged his tongue up the smaller demon’s palm. Violet eyes burned crimson at the deceptively dark and pure sweet taste. Exquisite, he had chosen well in taking Alfred. He continued licking up the blood as the younger demon trembled. The venom on his tongue was probably the source behind ashamed and vainly suppressed mewls from Alfred.

It amused the demon greatly to see Alfred trying to resist him. The lord licked and sucked on his fingers like candy until there was no blood left to escape his tongue.

“Ahem. I don’t mean to disturb you my lord, but you’re expected in the council room. We need to decide what to do about Natalya Arlovskaya.”

Ivan snapped his head away from the aroused and confused ex-Angel, whom upon being freed from the sensual torment let himself snatch his hand back. Sparing a glance at the other, he raised a small brow before he let his power reach out and almost cradle the trembling demon. The fledging attempted to resist but a shadow creeping under his chin stopped that quickly and quietly enough. When the lord looked down, Alfred was pouting. How cute.

After the fledgling seemed to be occupied with keeping the smoky obsidian tendrils from wrapping and stroking his body, Ivan turned to the brunet standing a few feet away who continued to stare at the fallen angel with dazed green eyes. He was rubbing his fingers over the wrist of his free hand, licking his lips as he took in the smell of something good – only to have Ivan snarl threateningly and remind him that Alfred was off-limits.

Toris, the name that Ivan had chosen for him to be referred to as now, was a lower demon that Ivan had won in a card game from his previous master. Some fool who had been running a plenty whorehouse or something, or maybe it was a club; Ivan couldn’t be bother to recall. In any case, his original plan was to eat him but the inferior proved to be useful in running his manor well enough when he was away. So his life was spared. Currently.

While the Russian was given a report, Alfred was vainly trying to ignore the voices whispering in his ear.

_Master wants us._

Alfred snapped his head up. Like he gave a fuck. Not even close. He couldn’t make himself care if he tried. Nope. He totally didn’t care.

_We need Master._

The ex-Angel scoffed at that one. Right. He didn’t need Ivan, this was only temporary. Ivan had screwed up his life, he’d fucked him over. At the voices’ now raised voices and teasing remarks about his wording, he growled aloud. Two pairs of eyes fell on him and he glared until Toris yelped and Ivan gave him a questioning flat look before turning back around.

 _We_ , he began to reply, then thought better of himself. _I don’t need him. You aren’t even real – you guys don’t even exist. I don’t have to listen to you._

He was so losing it.

_We must give him what he wants._

Blue eyes snapped towards the frowning demon in front of him. He couldn’t really focus on what they were saying over the voices in his head, but he managed to make out that the news wasn’t too good. Ivan looked ready to the throttle the brunet. Oh well. Not his problem, not his job to get rid of the body. If there was a body, he had a feeling that if Ivan didn’t like someone that he would just eat him.

Going back to reply to the voice that had spoken earlier, he mentally sighed. _He’ll take it whether or not I give it to him._

The voices were about to say something but then Toris was ducking a shadow aimed at his eye. Alfred almost started, immediately curious as a deadly aura started to weigh on the room. Ivan wasn’t happy about something. He was flexing his claws and the brunet was apparently trying to save himself. Whatever he said only seemed to make his predicament even worse.

Frowning, Alfred tried to tune out the voices asking him what was going on. He heard his name and put his keen ears to work. From what he gathered, it wasn’t just about how Ivan did not like the way his ‘advisor’ was staring at his new pet. There was a mention of council and acceptance and then something about rules.

Rules? Wait – was Ivan going to get in trouble for bringing him down here? Was he going to get in trouble for changing him? It was about time that things went in the ex-Angel’s favor!

Alfred could have shouted for joy – but then a small part of him reminded him that if Ivan was gone, he was probably going to be killed. If someone worse than the Russian didn’t take him. Or freaky demonic scientists who wanted to poke him with needles and take scalpels and saws to his skull.

Suddenly, Ivan’s life and safety meant just a bit more to the fledging. Just a bit – he cared just enough for Ivan to live and be his caretaker. If only to keep the threat of another psycho getting a hold of his soul, Alfred wanted to keep his sanity somewhat together.

_Master is yelling –_

Alfred suddenly felt himself wince as he found himself being rudely paying more attention to reality. Indeed, Ivan was yelling.

“He will not touch what is mine!” The lord shouted. Toris was practically hunched into himself, trying to appear as small as physically possible. The Russian’s anger was nearly suffocating and Alfred wondered how he had not noticed before. Nevertheless, Ivan was fully aware of his anger and apparently his volume too because he was now trying to lower his voice.

“I will torture and kill him,” he began, taking a smooth breath to collect himself. Toris was nodding, green eyes having turned black in fear, as he attempted to put a tiny inch of space between him and the still angry demon. Ivan saw it and the smaller flinched as the taller continued, “If he even so much as even _breathes_ on my Fredka.”

Alfred swallowed quietly; glad that Ivan’s gaze was not on him for once. He was scared enough from a distance as the lower demon simply nodded. Ivan was now dismissing the brunet, “Toris, I have warned you about interrupting me when I’m obviously busy enjoying myself. Now speak and finish up your _news_ ,” a twitch of his eyes, “before you lose your tongue.”

The inferior demon trembled under his Lord’s irritated gaze, almost unable to speak before he remembered Ivan’s threat, “Y-yes, well, they called y-you while you were away. Y-you are needed in the c-council room. It’s about Natalya Arlovskaya.”

Toris flinched and cowered, expecting to be beaten to a bloody mass for even mentioning the vile woman. It was the very same vile little woman with whom that Ivan was being forced to share a horribly unfortunate relation with. At least until he could get rid of her. Hopefully, he could. If the courts let him. If being a very large factor in that equation.

Ivan sighed heavily, knowing when he had to admit and begrudgingly obey his summons. Damn old bastards, forever and always nosy.

The lord flicked his wrist and Toris was pulled up from his hunched stance with a sharp yelp, Alfred starting as Ivan gestured for to him to follow them as the brunet to lead the way.

Even now, the ex-Angel couldn’t fight the order that he knew was coming as soon as the lord looked him in the eyes.

**Fredka. Come.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animaegan Notes: Working on next update and I'm going to London & Paris for a couple of weeks so it'll be really late-  
> Bai-Marionette Notes: Prolly gonna make that one late too-

**Author's Note:**

> Please Read and Review!


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